


and you're looking for the answer in his eyes

by Tandirra



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pining, clandestine hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 18:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20313817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tandirra/pseuds/Tandirra
Summary: On the eve of every new millennium Aziraphale and Crowley made a point to welcome in the budding era together. Admittedly, they’d begun to entirely by accident when they happened to cross paths while doing separate business for their respective offices around 2000 B.C. It had stuck though, and subsequently become one of their more regular traditions.





	and you're looking for the answer in his eyes

“Wait.” Aziraphale peered curiously at Crowley over his flute of champagne. “You started all this, what is it calling it again? I absolutely cannot remember all of these new-fangled acronyms.”

“Y2K.” Drawled Crowley. Bubbles fizzed in the remains of his champagne and on his tongue as he brought the glass to his lips to finish it off. “Has a nice, ominous ring to it, doesn’t it?” The fizzy drink left him pleasantly warm. As did the company.

“I suppose.” Though Aziraphale sounded doubtful.

Crowley ignored it. “Yeah, it’s hilarious. Bunch of people running around like chickens about to get their heads cut off all over nothing. It’ll only get better when they realize nothing has gone wrong.”

“You’ve got a lot of people horribly worried.” Aziraphale considered his drink. “And all for nothing.”

Crowley smirked. “That’s what makes it funny. A mass, collective embarrassment.” He didn’t actually want any catastrophe. Total chaos was good in theory, Hell would love it, sure, but in the long run it’d really be bad for business. "Imagine how mortified they'll be."

Aziraphale humored him with a smile.

On the eve of every new millennium Aziraphale and Crowley made a point to welcome in the budding era together. Admittedly, they’d begun to entirely by accident when they happened to cross paths while doing separate business for their respective offices around 2000 B.C. It had stuck though, and subsequently become one of their more regular traditions.

And this millennium, Crowley was optimistic, would only be more interesting than the last. (And, at the very least it would continue time’s steady march away from the 14th century.) Lovely humans and their ceaseless inventive spirit, always finding new and even more convenient ways to antagonize each other; he couldn’t have thought their internet up any better.

Well, he probably could’ve but hubris wasn’t his favorite sin so he restrained himself and instead poured another glass of champagne. He looked up from the bottle to find Aziraphale gazing thoughtfully at him. “What? You want some?” He waved the bottle Aziraphale’s way, nervous and increasingly warm under the angel’s gaze.

“No.” Aziraphale started, then looked down at his now empty glass. “Well, actually yes. But that wasn’t what I was thinking about.” 

“Oh? And that was?” Crowley poured the glass for Aziraphale and melted a bit when the angel smiled appreciatively at him. 

Aziraphale gave Crowley time to compose himself as he sipped his drink. “We’ve been here for a long while now.” And Crowley nodded. Usually it went without saying. “Did you ever think you’d stay on Earth all this time?”

“Yeah. Always.” Crowley responded without giving it a second thought. 

The speed of his answer surprised Aziraphale, who sputtered into his champagne. “Wh- really? From the beginning?”

“From the Garden.” He clarified, restlessly scanning the shelves of books. There was no place more distant from Hell than Aziraphale’s bookstore. Still, though, speaking so poorly of Hell always posed a danger that made him itch. “Hells full of bastards. Why would I want to stay there? Much more exciting up here where all the action is.”

“But…” Was all Aziraphale managed before he slipped uneasily into reflection. For a long while Aziraphale said nothing. The silence drew Crowley from his meditative observation of the indecipherable order Aziraphale had given to his collection.

Aziraphale’s thumb stroked a thoughtful circle around the flute of his glass. His gaze was downcast, his brilliant eyes hidden by his blonde lashes.

“Angel?” He prompted when the silence stretched on, slightly concerned that he’d said something wrong.

“Oh. Oh, my apologies. I was just thinking.” There was still a voracious, curious glint to Aziraphale’s eyes when he returned to Crowley.

Crowley relaxed. “How scandalous. What about?” It wouldn’t take much prodding to get the question out, whatever it was. Once it had found a voice curiosity always demanded to be heard.

Urged on, Aziraphale caved, much to Crowley’s satisfaction. “When did you decide on… on you and me?” His voice was earnest.

“On. On  _ what?” _ Crowley’s heart skipped a beat and he fumbled with his glass. He could feel the heat rising in his face and silently worked to crush it. Obviously he’d misheard. Or misjudged. Aziraphale hadn’t just asked him that.

“The arrangement?” Aziraphale too flushed. “When did you dream that up?”

“Ah.” Adjusting his collar, Crowley cleared his throat and just barely managed a rough shrug. He’d been right, he had mis-assumed. Despite it, or perhaps because of that, his stomach kept sinking.

At the very least, this was a much easier question to answer than the alternative. “Oh, uh, not that long before I proposed it. Just one of those spur of the moment brilliant ideas of mine. You know how it is.” He tried a joking grin, though it didn’t sit right with him while Aziraphale nodded seriously, so he dropped it and desperately tried to stop thinking about the question he thought Aziraphale had asked. 

_ So long. It had been so long now. It felt like forever. _

“So you didn’t plan it?”

“I mean. I did a bit.” Crowley scratched at the veneer of the wood beneath his hand. He’d actually spent quite a number of hours concocting the arrangement, particularly the best way to pitch it to Aziraphale who, back then, wasn’t quite on his side yet. Not that he was now, either. At least, not if you asked him. 

Crowley knew better, though.

“But not from the beginning.”

“Ha!” Crowley scoffed. “No way. I’m not  _ that  _ clever. Wish I was, it’d make my life a lot easier.”

“Then why?” Aziraphale ignored Crowley, pushing the subject on towards whatever was occupying his train of thought. “Then why approach me in the Garden?”

“What is this,  _ Twenty Questions? _ ” As soon as Aziraphale began to wilt he retracted his tease. “Oh, don’t do that. I didn’t mean it.” And Aziraphale, thankfully, brightened, donning a small expectant smile. “I mean, why not? I was curious.” And bored. And he hadn’t so much as seen an angel since the fall. He’d wanted to see if they were as pretentious and self righteous as he recalled. 

Instead, he’d met Aziraphale. Who was many things, but not an angel as he had remembered them. 

“But I could have attacked you! We were natural enemies!  _ Are.” _ The angel corrected hastily, if half-heartedly.

Aziraphale’s dismay coaxed a more genuine smile. “But you didn’t. Why didn’t you?” When Aziraphale blinked, surprised, his smile grew into a grin. “Your turn. Come on, why didn’t you scare me off? I’m quite the menace, I am. It would have done wonders for your resume.” Aziraphale could have destroyed him. Could have smote him from the top of that wall and condemned him for his choice, his Original Sin. He could have and should have. But the angel hadn’t. 

“Oh, stop it!” Once again, the angel returned to his drink. Though this time not for long, as he took a sip just to fortify himself and began to speak. “I don’t think you’ll like this.” He smiled sheepishly at Crowley’s raised brow. “You didn’t look like much of a threat.”

It wasn’t quite as long or eloquent a declaration as Crowley would have liked. He slumped lower into the couch he lounged upon. “Mmh.” Part of him wanted to protest his threat level, but let it go, unwilling to instigate an argument about  _ that _ tonight. This was supposed to be a good night. “Well, I’d say it worked out alright.”

Aziraphale’s smile was soft and open. “Oh, yes.” And Crowley ached.

And perhaps his lips were loosened by the drink in his hand because he responded. “I really can’t imagine sitting here with any other angel.”

This was, perhaps too much for Aziraphale, whose eyes flickered nervously from Crowley to the sky to his drink. He pressed his mouth into a thin, flustered line.

Crowley contained a sigh and checked his watch.

It ticked ever closer towards twelve. “We should get going if we don’t want to miss it.” He said cordially as he unfolded himself from the couch and set aside the champagne glass after downing what was left inside. He relished in the fuzzy warmth it left behind and let it soak over the slight. After a moment’s consideration of the angel he mustered some more courage and offered his hand out. “C’mon, angel.”

“Oh, why thank you.” Despite a nervous flutter, Aziraphale’s hand was steady in Crowley’s as he hoisted himself up from his chair. And it lingered there for perhaps just a moment longer than it should’ve before it slipped to Aziraphale’s side. “Let me just- um. Get the keys to my shop.”

Crowley shoved his hand into the too small pockets of his jeans. He could feel his face burning. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll just wait outside.” He fled the bookshop like it had been blessed. Grinding his heel into the hard concrete, he considered the metrics of simply melting into it and disappearing entirely. He was mortified enough, he could do it.

But he couldn’t stand Aziraphale up like that. Not tonight.

The frigid night air did little to deter pedestrians from the streets. A steady stream of people flowed past, universally boisterous in their celebratory mood. He scowled sourly at a couple that strayed too close and the pair huddled tight as they passed him, which only left him feeling more tetchy.

Their sheer numbers may have worried him if he’d ever needed to fight crowds before. 

He checked his watch again. They were going to have to hurry.

He tried, really very intently, to think about anything but Aziraphale and his smile and his hands. And failed rather miserably. 

“Sorry about the delay!” Aziraphale appeared behind him, carefully shutting and locking the doors to his bookshop. “I thought I left them in the backroom but they weren’t there. And then I checked upstairs, but no luck.” He smiled cheerfully, if a bit anxiously.

“Uh. Huh.” Crowley polished a spot on his watch with his thumb, willing the smudge out of existence with misplaced spite. 

“Eventually I found them by Chaucer’s works. Which, I don’t know why they were  _ there _ of all places. Bit of a silly place for me to leave them.” 

“Yeah. Bit silly.” He repeated absentmindedly, already thinking ahead to how many humans he was going to irritate by the spot he’d chosen for the pair of them. Maybe he could get some accommodation from the office for ruining the first moments of a new millennium for them. He’d put it in a report. Spice it up a bit, edit out the company, they’d eat it up. Probably.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale was no longer smiling when he looked back and some of the iciness Crowley had since adopted flaked away. Instead the angel looked apologetic, nervous. His eyes searched Crowley’s face for something. 

The inspection was practically unbearable. Crowley fidgeted terribly under it. “You should lead the way.” Was all Aziraphale said, though.

So Crowley did, if without enthusiasm.

Aziraphale, sending his discontent, kept up most of the conversation on their walk. “I had the most  _ wonderful _ tart at a pastry shop the other week.” He chattered away. “You absolutely must try one. It’s this way actually, I can point it out. It’s new.”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” He said, rather too dully. It seemed to discourage Aziraphale so, when they inevitably passed by the shop, Crowley reacted with more enthusiasm than he felt.

That appeared to mollify the angel, who continued their walk with a spring in his step. It as enough to ease some of Crowley’s discontent.

The crowds only grew as they drew closer to the Victoria Embankment. Crowley checked his watch again, less than ten minutes left. For anyone else the tight timeline would have been worrying.

But he, with Aziraphale on his heels, moved like liquid through the packed crowd of hundreds. He made sure to step on a few feet, hoping it would cheer him up. It didn’t.

When the last couple of humans moved, shuffling slightly out of the way without actually seeming to realize they were, their spot at the river’s edge was secured. 

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale sighed happily. “This is just the perfect spot.”

Crowley leaned against the low barrier that separated them from the dark, sluggish waters of the Thames, churning endlessly on beneath them. “Course it is. What? You think I’m some kind of amateur?” He watched Aziraphale, who stood beneath the spotlight of the streetlamp above him and was suitably haloed by it. The lamp turned his curls to pure, shining, platinum light. His smile was soft and his blue eyes crinkled with excitement. “Angel…” he murmured, unable to stay scorned any longer. 

The whisper was lost amongst the crowd.

“How long do we have?” Aziraphale turned his sparkling gaze from the skyline to Crowley, who flushed, realizing he’d been caught staring.

“Uh.” He hastily checked his watch. “Just a few minutes now.” 

Sparing him, Aziraphale looked out over the crowd. He didn’t lose his smile. “There’s so much love in the air.” He said, rather dreamily.

“What?” Crowley, who’d been busy trying to warm himself up, glanced around at the many humans who made up their company.

They were surrounded by a diverse lot; couples sharing warmth and stealing kisses, friends passing flasks whose laughter added to the buoyant atmosphere, no one had come alone. Just a few meters to their left a woman held a little ratty looking dog in her arms, it growled at him.

Crowley solved its staring problem with a slip of his sunglasses and a look that sent the creature burrowing into its owner's arms. He returned to Aziraphale, rather pleased with himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said, beginning to shiver.

“It’s just everywhere! What a lovely way to start a new millennium. Humans are really quite innately good, you know.” 

He couldn’t officially agree and keep his job, but he posed no disagreement either.

With his hair tied back the cold night air raised goosebumps on the back of his neck. “Brrr. You’d think with all these people it’d be a bit warmer out here.” He defaulted towards safety, towards something he could talk about, and rubbed his hands together, trying to bring some warmth back to the tips of his fingers.

Aziraphale frowned sympathetically at him. “You should wear a warmer coat. Or perhaps invest in some fine gloves. I’m sure there’s some nice leather ones out there that might fit your style.” His smile took a mischievous edge. “Snakeskin perhaps.” With one foot he knocked against Crowley’s leather shoes.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Too restrictive. It’s fine, I’ll live.” But he made notice of the way the angel’s gaze lingered on his hands as he rubbed them together. This sent a small thrill through him, though it did little to stave off the cold or his chattering teeth.

After a quick, furtive glance at the crowd around them Aziraphale started towards him. “Here. Let me.” He held out his own hands, bare too, but steady and sure.

Crowley stared at him, sure he must be misunderstanding. He was vaguely aware of the blush creeping up the back of his neck.

When Crowley froze, Aziraphale clicked his tongue and took Crowley’s hands in his own. One of Aziraphale’s thumbs brushed over his knuckles and Crowley numbly registered that the soft smile on the angel’s face was aimed at him. Miracle or not, he was suddenly very warm.

“See, isn’t that better?” Aziraphale smile, nervous at first, grew only more satisfied when Crowley struggled to remember how to speak. Despite the crowds, the world that existed beyond the two of them melted away into background static.

It boomed back with the first firework of the night, which Crowley only saw from the purple reflection in Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Oh! It’s starting!” Aziraphale turned towards the river, though his hands did not fall away. He pressed against the stone railing as if he were moments from falling, watching as color and gunpowder burst like exotic flowers in the sky above London. Every explosion sent a new burst of color across his wide smile.

It was a very good thing Crowley didn’t actually need to breathe. Because he forgot to.

People jostled against them, straining for the best view. He hardly noticed. The soft brush of Aziraphale’s skin took precedence above all else.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Crowley hadn’t yet managed to turn towards the fireworks.

A cheer went up in the crowd around them. It tore Crowley away from Aziraphale long enough to check his watch in time to catch the numbers rolling. “Happy new millennium, angel.”

Aziraphale turned back to him. He brimmed with something like. Something Crowley couldn’t name. “Happy new millennium. Let’s make it a good one.” He squeezed Crowley’s hand, a firm, reassuring pressure.

Crowley, caught in the radiating light of Aziraphale's smile, couldn’t even bring himself to disagree.


End file.
